


Clothes Don't Make the Man ... Or Unmake Him

by trillian_jdc



Series: Established Portfolio [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M, Mystrade Monday, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Weekend Getaway, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft is called back from a country walking trip with Greg to handle an emergency. In spite of his casual outfit - and much as Greg enjoys it - his air of authority is still in place.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Established Portfolio [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865395
Comments: 22
Kudos: 149





	Clothes Don't Make the Man ... Or Unmake Him

Greg was thrilled that he'd managed to talk Mycroft into a getaway trip out of London. He'd been planning it for weeks, forcing himself to be patient until the weather was favorable and their work schedules aligned. It would be just the two of them for the weekend, in a quiet bed and breakfast, with a lovely little village to wander around, a quaint bookshop to browse, and treats in a teashop not much bigger than someone's front room. 

Best of all, as much as he loved the suits and the traditional trappings, he'd convinced Mycroft that no one they knew would see them, and so he could dress down, in softer fabrics and fewer layers, the better for them to cuddle. Greg loved it when Mycroft unwound enough, only with him, to playfully touch and tease. And frankly, he liked being able to undress him more easily, although whatever the package, the unwrapping was part of the fun. 

After they drove out Friday evening, snacking on cheese and fruit in the car and tumbling into bed together after a late arrival, they woke up leisurely. They sleepily nuzzled, gently stroking whatever body parts they found under their hands, murmuring together how relaxing it was to be so unhurried and so grateful for each other. They dozed, skin to skin in each other's arms, interspersing soft kisses with the occasional tickle, just to keep things interesting. 

Finally, their sense of responsibility -- and the need to be able to tell anyone who asked at work on Monday how the weekend was that they did something other than stay in bed -- got them dressed to walk out to the shops. Greg's outfit for the day wasn't that different from his usual, given his propensity for practical clothes, but Mycroft had surprised Greg by wearing the softest-looking pair of jeans he'd ever seen, in a deep indigo, with turn-ups at the ankle! A utilitarian black mid-length coat -- with a collar that could be turned up, reminiscent of Mycroft's brother's dramatics -- covered a jumper of the same shade, but the most unpredicted element of the outfit was an eye-catching pair of blue striped socks. Whenever he could, Mycroft added a touch of whimsy to his outfits that only he, and now Greg, knew about. That sense of humor was one of their many shared secrets. 

Greg wasn't shy at expressing his obvious pleasure at seeing his partner look so put-together in such a different way. He couldn't stop touching and petting, which eventually led to Mycroft slapping away grabby hands and practically being chased out of the charming country inn they were staying in. They tripped over their feet as they rushed out the door, then laughed as they walked, headed wherever so long as it was together. 

Unfortunately, their bubble of happiness wasn't fated to stay unbroken. When both of their mobiles went off at the same time, they looked at each other and winced before checking the messages. There had been an attempted bombing that required their mini break be cut short. In a rush, with no time to change, they returned, packed, checked out, and headed back to London. 

A few hours later, after the crisis had been resolved, Mycroft was calmly livid. Their presence hadn't truly been needed; his staff handled the situation competently and professionally. All that was lacking was the team members' own confidence. They needed the comfort of having their solutions confirmed by someone more used to these kinds of decisions. They found it easier to interrupt their boss' time away than to take responsibility into their own hands. This passivity, this unwillingness to make the hard choices, this lack of respect for his time -- it didn't bode well for the next generation of decision-makers. And Mycroft had the duty to let them know this. He wouldn't be available as their protective security blanket forever. 

While Greg faded into the background in Mycroft's office, his own tasks finished, Mycroft prepared to wrap up these loose ends. He sat in an imposing red leather wingback chair, waiting for his subordinates to report an all-clear. As the team lead stepped in front of him, ready to end the day, Mycroft projected calm lethality, in spite of his casual outfit. 

"Well, this is new," said the lackey, thoughtlessly. He had made the mistake of thinking he could lighten the mood without first acknowledging his shortcomings, and he put too much trust in Mycroft's casual appearance reflecting his attitude. "Not your usual look, Mr. Holmes." 

"No. I was on a country break," Mycroft responded. Greg snickered, quietly, to himself. Making a Holmes state the obvious never put them in a good mood. He wondered if he'd ever see this staffer again, once Mycroft finished with him. If he couldn't cope with honest feedback, perhaps better to find out now, before a more substantial emergency was on his shoulders. 

"That break was long anticipated, and it was unnecessary for you to interrupt it. My presence today was superfluous, and the situation fell well within your remit. If you cannot handle this kind of responsibility without having your decisions confirmed, then you are in the wrong position. You have had the necessary training, and you should have been prepared to manage the circumstances with more mastery than you demonstrated. You do not need me, or anyone else, to substantiate your choices."

The subordinate paled as this statement went on, seeming to shrink in place. "Am I finished, then?" 

"Of course not. Your first bombing is never easy. You did many things well, but falling back on seeking higher authority, in our roles, can't be your first choice in future." Mycroft slightly smiled at the man. "On Tuesday, we will discuss additional techniques of use in situations of this type. Until then, my partner and I will return to our weekend away. Go now."

Greg held the door for the man as he scuttled out, looking relieved. "Always brilliant to see you scare the staff into improving, darlin'. Did you mean it, about going back?" 

"Well. Perhaps a closer hideaway this time," Mycroft answered, stepping close to Greg. He wound his arms around Greg's waist, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on Greg's shoulder. "I know how much you like seeing me be dictatorial, and instead of getting on the road, I would rather spend the time picking up where we left off this morning." 

Greg turned his head and returned Mycroft's devilish smile. "See, that's why you're in charge, you have the best ideas." He kissed the taller man, reaching down to his waist to wrap his hands around Mycroft's. They stood together, quietly, for just a few minutes before walking out, hand in hand, to resume their weekend together.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture of Mark Gatiss and the Mystrade Monday prompt "this is new."


End file.
